


Down the Rabbit Hole

by Frantisek



Category: AEW, All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, maxlow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frantisek/pseuds/Frantisek
Summary: Being a bodyguard is hard when you're working for Maxwell Jacob Friedman. As Wardlow is about to find out, living with your boss can be even harder.
Relationships: Maxwell Jacob Friedman/Wardlow
Comments: 22
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

It was supposed to be just another job. The perfect job, actually: bodyguard with a side of wrestling. While some of the requirements were, let’s say, unusual, he had never worked for someone of Maxwell’s status before. Wardlow didn’t know what to expect, so at first, he was grateful. He was excited.

He was naïve.

The first time Wardlow saw a picture of Maxwell his youth had caught him off guard. With MJF’s credentials, he was expecting some old magnate with a crazy dream. The first time Wardlow stepped into the mansion he spent about two minutes just silently staring at the riches around him, until he heard the sound of fancy dress-shoes against the floor.

“Hey! You made it, buddy!” said Max with a grin.

Perhaps because of his own rigid looks and stoic presence, Wardlow was immediately impressed by his new boss’s ability to express himself without restrain. As a man of few words, he loved to observe an analyze people’s facial expressions; he believed that a look at someone’s eyes could reveal emotions hidden within better than any words could. It was something that he liked to use for wrestling, too.

Maxwell was wearing the most exquisite suit that he had ever seen. He looked even younger in person. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, the rest of his pale skin had the glow that only a life of privilege can give. Wardlow thought his eyes were particularly intriguing. There was a playful spark in them, the echoes of childish excitement. Now in front of his boss, Wardlow noticed Max was considerably shorter than him.

“Uh… yeah. My pleasure” he replied in a low voice.

And there he was shaking hands with a millionaire in his early twenties, someone almost ten years younger than himself. He did have a solid handshake, though. Wardlow felt like Maxwell’s grip was a bit excessive, so he squished a little harder in response. Everything with the millionaire felt like a test, but he was ready to pass. He needed this.

Things had not been easy for Wardlow. He constantly sent money to his family to support his grandparents, even to the point where he was low on funds sometimes. But being a bodyguard was a natural fit for him. He knew his job was simple: protect guy and destroy those who attack guy. He didn’t like the small talk. He didn’t like to socialize. His life centered around hardcore training sessions, in which he tried to push his body to its limits. While he had the appearance of a lone wolf type of guy, he had grown up as a shy kid. It wasn’t like Wardlow didn’t like people. He just… liked to keep to himself. He didn’t trust a lot of people to begin with.

When Wardlow learned that this new position meant he had to move in with his boss, he saw it as a bonus. The mansion was bigger than any place Wardlow had ever slept in. Having his own room in a house like that, without paying rent, would allow him to enjoy the simple lifestyle that he believed was best for him while saving money at the same time.

Most importantly, the mansion had an amazing gym that he could use at any hour.

The only problem was the lack of privacy. Wardlow understood that living with his boss could be tricky, but for what he knew the guy was a total playboy. Probably loves his privacy, Wardlow told himself. Chances are MJF will spend hours in his side of the house courting some chicks… or whatever the hell he’s into, he thought.

Even though Wardlow was bi, he usually just assumed that everyone else was heterosexual. Truth to be told, he just wasn’t good at dating. He was used to declining advances from strangers. Every time he’d been in a relationship, his partner’s schedule would collide with his and then there would be trouble. He’d been accused of being a hermit, of not caring enough. And yet he had always been the one to break up. He didn’t wanna hurt his partners. He didn’t like making people cry. The whole thing interfered with his physical progress, so he thought that he was better off as a fulltime single guy.

He hadn’t dated in ages, so it had felt extra awkward when, during the final interview for the job, Max’s employee had asked him if he’d been tested for STDs. It had been uncomfortable, so now he was going to tell his boss about it.

“So!” Max said with enthusiasm “You’re ready to move in?” He started looking around for more baggage, but that was all of it. “Do you have more things in the car or something?”

“Um… no, this is all.” Wardlow didn’t even have a car.

“Hm. Alright then!” the younger man said smiling. “Let’s get you all set. Shall we?”

“Actually… there’s something I wanted to… talk to you about”

MJF looked at him raising an eyebrow.

“Go on, big guy”

“Uh… the guy from the final interview asked me some… inappropriate questions”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Wardlow took a second to phrase. “He… asked me about…”

Max chuckled, interrupting him mid sentence.

“I don’t wanna hear it!” he said, swaying his right hand like getting rid of a nuisance. “That sounds awful though. Like, _what the fuck_ , am I right?” his expression turned cold for a second “Consider that guy fired.”

Wardlow raised his brow at his response, a little taken aback.

“C’mon, chop chop” Max gestured towards the stairs, now less enthusiastically. “I’ll show you around.”


	2. Chapter 2

Wardlow’s first morning in the mansion started with the odd feeling of waking up in unknown surroundings. He had slept wonderfully thanks to the good quality mattress, and the silkiness of the sheets helped him slowly drifting into his day. He couldn’t quite remember what he dreamed, though. In his mind, the hazy image of a boy outside, sitting on the grass. Maybe it had been something from his childhood. Now fully awake, he sat on the side of the bed and immediately felt the luscious rug under his feet.

As he further explored the room, he made an odd discovery. Besides the small amount of clothes that he already owned, which had looked rather pathetic in the huge closet, there were a lot of new ones. There were three different designer suits hanging from the rails, accompanied by three different pairs of shoes. Same with the shelves: three button-up shirts, three undershirts. He sprinted to the drawer where he kept his underwear and was relieved to find it hadn’t changed.

Suddenly, he was distracted by an enticing smell. In the room beside his, on top of a big table, there was a generous breakfast that seemed designed for his training needs and included some of his favourite things, like the freshest and most delicious grapefruit he had ever tasted. As he got ready for his first day of work, Wardlow felt like he had stumbled upon some modern knock-off version of Alice in Wonderland.

Maxwell’s lifestyle was nothing like Wardlow had imagined. There was very little business work and a lot of hanging around. It had started in a fairly average way, with a few small reunions with business associates.

“Ready for brunch? I know the spot” Max said briefly after the businessmen departed.

“Uh, sure.” Wardlow wasn’t hungry yet, but he didn’t want to turn down his boss’s invitation.

Maxwell took him to an expensive and chic café that he had never noticed.

They didn’t talk much. Max was eating like he was in a rush.

“Um… I found some suits with my clothes this morning” Wardlow ventured.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it yet, but he was certain that he didn’t have the money to pay for them.

“Oh, you’re welcome”

“Actually… I was a little confused. I _did_ bring my own stuff, and…”

Max chuckled.

“Well… I don’t wanna be disrespectful, but you gotta step up when you’re working with _me_ ”

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You can keep the suits, dude. I wanted to get you more, but, you know, it’s so much better when you go in person, right? I’ll make you an appointment with my guy to get you a couple of good ones sometime” he said nonchalantly, without looking at Wardlow. “Alright! Time to head out!.”

Max dropped a few bills on the table and signaled Wardlow to follow him with a gesture of his head.

It was going to be a long day.

After visiting three different shops to find the perfect pair of silk socks, Wardlow followed Maxwell through hours of shopping for diamond-incrusted cuffs. “I’m probably never gonna use these anyways” he told him in front of the cashier, right before paying an exorbitant amount.

Wardlow was ecstatic to get home once they finished the errands. Following his boss around as he did whatever the fuck he felt like doing was surprisingly exhausting. He couldn’t help but feeling out of place. It was like the guy was trying to rub his fortune on his face or something.

“Oh, before I forget” Maxwell said before heading to his side of the mansion. “I’m gonna join you for your training sessions starting tomorrow.”

Max could see the disappointment materializing in Wardlow’s face as he was finishing the sentence.

“Hey, don’t worry! I don’t socialize when I work out. It’s all about the _grinding_! right?”

“I suppose…”

“I take this shit seriously too, man. Alright, gotta go to bed. See ya.”

MJF left the room without even expecting a reply. Wardlow left out a sigh and headed to his own bedroom.

He wasn’t really going to work out at six in the morning, was he?

Next morning, right after six, Wardlow saw a grumpy, sleepy Max wearing sweat shorts and a muscle shirt, coming to the gym. Wardlow was about to get started and ventured a casual nod towards his young boss. He replied by mimicking the gesture. No words transpired.

Unexpectedly, Maxwell followed through with his comments about keeping interactions to a minimum. After the first hour, Wardlow checked on him from behind the shoulder. He realized that Max was doing a similar a version of his own workout, which was perhaps too intense for his smaller body type.

Very well, he thought, let’s see how you can keep up.

By the end of the second hour, when training was over, Wardlow was drinking from a water bottle when MJF passed by the gym’s entrance. Max was sweaty and irritated, and gave him an intense look when he walked in front of him. Once from a distance, when Wardlow couldn’t see him, he said:

“See you at the door in one hour sharp. We’re going shopping.”

After that first day, contrary to what Wardlow had expected, Maxwell never once skipped training. While the bodyguard appreciated his tenacity, he also thought it was a scary thing. Max never stopped using the gym before Wardlow, and when he was done his eyes projected bitterness and anger.

What was he so resentful about? He didn’t know what his boss was trying to prove, but he was concerned that the dedication he was putting into an extremely advanced training routine could cause damage to his body. Maybe one day, if he felt like it, Wardlow would intervene and comment on it.

He didn’t think that day would ever come.


	3. Chapter 3

After a couple of days, Wardlow started to see a different side of MJF. Apparently, the young millionaire required to be in his company most of the time. Attached to Wardlow’s room there was a small lounge with comfy couches and a superb TV screen. Sometimes he would be there relaxing, just enjoying a film or documentary by himself, and Maxwell would find a reason to come in and be disruptive.

He was always demanding attention. He would ask the bodyguard “What do you think of this tie?” or “Should I buy bigger weights?” and then show sudden interest in whatever Wardlow was watching. He ended up pausing the show anyways, as Max would constantly interrupt out of boredom. He was a little hyper and didn’t seem to be able to keep up with anything that wasn’t interesting to him.

Wardlow realized that Maxwell _loved_ to talk. Luckily, because of his stern semblance, the bodyguard came across as a particularly good listener. While many times their one-sided conversations focused on wrestling strategies and training, MJF’s favourite topic was himself, evidently. He loved to talk to Wardlow for what it seemed like hours abut his physical prowess, his early success, his aspirations. He also talked about his favourite Broadway musicals, designer brands and New York delis. He told Wardlow detailed stories about his trips to Disney World, his quasi-football career, his time in an acapella group.

In this regard, Maxwell’s preferred music was surprisingly bubbly. Wardlow had caught him singing cheesy pop songs a couple of times. Even though Wardlow’s polite act and his imperturbable expression were made to project “I didn’t hear anything,” Max was not embarrassed in the slightest. He was proud of his singing.

Wardlow had to admit to himself that there was something endearing about his boss’s unabashedly childish cockiness. From time to time, Maxwell indulged in extremely tacky, trashy decorations and clothing accessories that he would wear only once. Wardlow wasn’t sure where he had picked up such a liking for the flamboyant, but he found it greatly entertaining. 

In full honesty, he thought that some of MJF’s antics were… kind of adorable.

One night, the bodyguard had to leave the house to run some family errands and came back later than expected. As he walked by the lounge beside his room, he realized Maxwell had fallen asleep on the couch wrapped in a fluffy white blanket. By his right hand, an empty bowl of organic dairy-free vanilla bean ice cream. On the TV, the credits of _The Little Mermaid_.

Wardlow’s initial sardonic smile slowly turned into a gentler one.

He couldn’t help noticing how different Max’s face looked when he was sleeping. When his expression was serene, there was an unusual yet distinguished beauty to it. His grand nose and sharp jawline made Wardlow think of a discarded Greek statue made to resemble some mythological hero, noble enough to be remembered but not pretty enough for a museum. Wardlow thought that Maxwell’s neck looked surprisingly curved and delicate for someone as built as he was, though. His cheek, resting on a pillow, looked remarkably young and soft.

He didn’t have the energy or courage to wake him up.

Tomorrow, Wardlow thought, he would wake up and Maxwell would be long gone from that couch. For the time being, however, it was a weird feeling to have your boss sleeping in the room beside you.

It was a feeling that Wardlow didn’t want to explore.


	4. Chapter 4

As the days passed, Wardlow knew he had been able to build an extraordinary tolerance for MJF shenanigans. He had conflicted feelings about his boss, though, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. 

Sometimes he felt like he hated Maxwell. The arrogant and disrespectful demeanor with which he handled everyone around him was a tiring thing. Wardlow had always admired bold, tough people, but those qualities in MJF combined with his petulant behavior made the bodyguard want to snap from time to time. 

That said, he was slowly getting used to Maxwell’s hard posturing. Shockingly, once he learned about his softer side though their everyday experiences, all that alpha bullshit seemed more bearable. Somewhere deep inside, Wardlow was beginning to feel special about their exclusive arrangement. What if there was something nice behind his veneer? Maybe Max wasn’t that bad after all. 

And just as he was getting comfortable with his position, things for Wardlow took an unexpected turn.   
He wasn’t sure when it had all begun. It was summer. Maxwell started acting… weird. 

One time the bodyguard was lying on his bed spending some time reading from a tablet. Even though the door of his room was open, he was sure to hear his boss if he showed up. Because the staff that worked at the mansion didn’t sleep there, other than Max’s occasional music the place remained mostly silent. The two men could practically sense each other’s locations by the sound of their shoes on the floor. 

That time, however, Maxwell wasn’t wearing any shoes.

Wardlow heard two quick knocks on the door frame. When he turned around, he saw Max standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of small, tight, black swimming trunks. 

“Hey! Wanna go to the pool?” he said with a cheeky side-grin. 

It wasn’t easy for Wardlow to reply. He tried to gather his thoughts for what it felt like an eternity. 

Maxwell’s body actually looked like a real Greek statue. One of the nice ones too. Wardlow couldn’t pick a place to focus his gaze on, and the one place his eyes were drawn to was unacceptable. He put on a slightly awkward face that Maxwell secretly found delightful, and turned back to the screen.

“Um… maybe some other time”  
“Ppfff. You’re such a bummer, dude” 

When Max left the room, Wardlow couldn’t avoid looking at his back. He was already very aware of his boss’s spectacular ass, but this was ridiculous. Was it all in his head? He was pretty sure Max wasn’t into guys. 

He wasn’t so sure after the first week of Summer.

While he could see that Max struggled with his over-achiever workout, he was looking more and more stable by the end of each session. Wardlow noticed something else during training, too. MJF didn’t talk to him, but at points Wardlow knew that he was being watched. He got that same feeling at the public gym, where he could sense someone’s gaze upon him. 

On one occasion Wardlow caught Max peeking, and instead of looking down he made eye contact. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he felt uncomfortable when peered at out of nowhere. 

Max held his glance for a second. 

In that moment, his expression was hard to read. He looked tired, anxious and contentious, all at once. He then looked away and continue training like nothing happened. 

Wardlow was confused. 

After training, Maxwell would go the pool for a quick swim. He always did the same thing. First, an impressive athletic jump as he dove in. Then he would lay in the middle of the pool, floating peacefully, for at least ten minutes. It seemed like, more than swimming, what MJF really liked was either laying under the sun or going around the house semi-naked. 

After the splash, he would mostly remain shirtless for the rest of the day. 

Wardlow’s hardest moment came one day in which he was spending some time in the patio. Sitting on a chair by the pool, he was reading an article on his phone when he felt that peculiar sensation again, that gaze upon him. When he looked up from the screen, he saw that Max was sitting on a plastic chair located in front of him, by the right side of the pool, shirtless and still wet from the swim. 

He was eating a bright red popsicle looking directly at Wardlow.   
You gotta be fucking kidding me, he thought. 

MJF looked away, acting casual. He took a big bite out of the popsicle. 

From his own chair, Wardlow could see Maxwell’s thin yet delicate lips getting coloured with red.   
He could see one drip of the popsicle running over his boss’s smooth chest.   
Another drip was running on his hand. Max licked it. Even from a distance, Wardlow saw his tongue was now red too. 

He felt the tightening in his pants and knew it was time to go. With the best poker face he could muster, Wardlow got up from the chair and walked straight to his room without even looking at MJF. 

He masturbated as soon as he closed the door. He tried not to think too much about the red drips. 

Now, it was time to evaluate the situation. 

First of all, what the fuck was going on? From everything he had heard and seen, MJF hadn’t shown interest in men whatsoever. Even if he was interested in men, he thought… why me? Max was the kind of man that could get anyone he wanted. Why flirting with the bodyguard? Was Wardlow just another pawn in his weird rich people games? 

What good could ever come from this? 

He wasn’t really sure. It had been so long since the last time he had a good fuck. He was afraid to lose his job, but he knew that if Maxwell pushed him he would eventually give up. 

What good could ever come from this? he thought as he fell asleep. 

A recognizable image started forming in his mind.

It was that dream again. The one with the boy on the grass. The only difference was this time he looked from the boy’s perspective. Later, when he tried to remember, he realized that he had always been the boy. 

The boy was holding something in his arms. Something precious, something he was protecting from the cold wind. 

It was a small, fluffy white rabbit. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Wardlow? Wardlow!” 

His name resonated through the house. Max preferred yelling than texting. 

“Wardlow, come here for a sec!” 

He was yelling from inside the restroom in his side of the mansion.   
The door was open. 

Waiting by the entrance, Wardlow rolled his eyes in consternation as his hand went to his forehead. 

He was getting worried.   
Is this what I think it is? 

“Can you come over here, or what?”  
“Yes” Wardlow took a deep breath and stepped into the big, brightly illuminated washroom.   
“Hey,” Maxwell acknowledged him. “There’s something going on with the shower head or something, I don’t fucking know.” He said nonchalantly. 

He was wearing nothing but a white towel over his crotch.   
Wardlow couldn’t reply.

“Ummm… can you like, take a look at it?” Max said turning his back at him. 

His eyes went straight to Max’s behind, tracing the curve of his waist, following the line that ended behind the towel.   
His skin looked silky and pristine. His ass was plump and perky. 

“Why are you doing this?” the older man finally asked. 

Max looked at Wardlow from over the shoulder, peering languidly behind his long eyelashes.   
“Huh?” he said in a mocking tone “What are you talking about?”

Unexpectedly, Wardlow seized his waist.   
The young millionaire stopped breathing for a moment.   
He was taken aback by the feeling of his bodyguard’s big hands resting on his skin.

Suddenly, Wardlow grabbed him by the shoulders. 

His grip was so strong that it almost hurt. The bodyguard turned him around in one quick, violent motion, as he pushed him to be face to face, MJF’s back against the washroom’s wall. 

Wardlow was panting. He looked like a wild beast trying to suppress its strength. 

Maxwell had never seen him like that. He felt his lower stomach tingling with anticipation. 

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” Wardlow said between his teeth, as he deeply looked into his eyes. 

Max seemed at once nervous and expectant.   
He spoke without breaking eye contact. His reply was calm and quiet, almost a whisper. 

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

Wardlow could barely contain himself. He grunted. He was getting even closer to Max’s body, still restraining him by the shoulders. He closed his eyes infuriated and pushed his boss back against the wall one more time.

He peered into MJF’s eyes once again, looking for real answers.   
He would never forget what he saw there.

For a moment, Maxwell’s eyes were defenseless.   
He was unarmed. He was exposed. He realized how vulnerable he was.   
He was afraid.

For just one second, Wardlow saw that spark of fear in his eyes. 

The bodyguard felt weak on his knees, stricken by vertigo.  
He almost couldn’t hold it anymore. 

He wanted it. 

When MJF perceived the change, in a fraction of a second, the vulnerability in his eyes was replaced by a limitless hunger. There was a spark of victory in those eyes that deeply worried Wardlow. 

But Maxwell was losing control, too. 

He looked at Wardlow’s chest and felt a rush of excitement. He couldn’t believe it was finally there, right in front of him, all for him. The bodyguard was wearing a pair of shorts and a tight muscle shirt. Max could see the sharp shapes of Wardlow’s powerful muscles perfectly drawn under the thin fabric. 

While his shoulders were pressed against the wall by the taller man, Maxwell’s hands raised just a little bit to get under his muscle shirt. Starting from the bottom, he gently traced the lines on Wardlow’s six-pack. He raised up as much of the shirt as he could. He looked at Wardlow’s abs like he was under the spell of an irresistible force. 

Astonished, Wardlow let go of his shoulders. 

MJF’s hands went straight for the shirt. He took it off Wardlow’s chest with a burst of anger, as if he hated it for getting in between him and his pecs. Now free from the restraint of fabric, Maxwell caressed Wardlow’s tan skin with the tips of his fingers, slowly, carefully, ceremoniously, following every crease with his eyes.   
He felt kind of dizzy, like he was in a trance.   
He wanted to devour him. He wanted to possess him. 

Wardlow, unable to resist a minute longer, grabbed his boss by the chin and planted a passionate kiss in his mouth. It tasted just like the spearmint gum he was always chewing. Max was taken aback by the expertly controlled ferocity with which the taller man was pressing his lips against his. Wardlow was a damn good kisser. 

He pulled MJF’s hands away from his chest and turned him around, firmly holding him by the waist again. 

He took a glance at Maxwell’s soft neck and buried his face in it. It smelled like expensive cologne, something masculine and fresh. Max felt his own cock getting harder by this gesture. Wardlow’s pants and underwear dropped on the floor, and he soon felt the bodyguard’s member resting against his ass. 

Wardlow talked softly, so close to his ear.

“You wanna go to the bed?”  
“No” said Max quickly “I’m good. Grab the bottle from the shelf over there” he pointed at the lube with his head. 

Wardlow thought he sounded kind of nervous. He could sense that MJF hadn’t had sex in a long time either, but something told him that he wasn’t very experienced with guys to begin with. He was acting a bit hurried, like he wanted to go straight to the point as fast as possible.   
Well, that shouldn’t be a problem, Wardlow thought, lost in the moment. 

He gently prepped him open, using one and then two fingers. The bodyguard felt his cock getting harder with Maxwell’s every little twitch and movement. He could tell right away that the younger man hadn’t been at it for a while, so he gave him some time to get used to the feel before he penetrated him. 

He was so tight…

As Wardlow’s cock went deeper and deeper inside of him, Max clutched his hands against the wall. Wardlow could almost feel the painful spasms on the younger man turning into pleasure. Maxwell tried really hard not to moan. While his body twitched, he kept both his eyes and lips tightly shut.   
Wardlow couldn’t see his face, but he could feel him. 

Why was Max repressing himself? Didn’t he just get what he wanted? The thought made Wardlow want to fuck him harder, but he slowed down instead. Greedily keeping his hands on MJF’s luscious hips, he found a steadier rhythm.   
He tried to be gentler. 

Both men lost track of time during the act. 

Once it was over, they sat down panting, avoiding eye contact at fist.   
Wardlow got dressed slowly and stared at his hands for a while, not knowing what to say. MJF talked first.

“So, uh… do you mind leaving the bathroom?”

The bodyguard was perplexed.

“Sorry?”  
“Do you mind leaving the bathroom? I’m kinda taking a shower”  
“Oh…” he didn’t know how to react. “Um… Ok” 

Wardlow stepped from the doorframe, and soon after he left the bathroom Maxwell closed the door.   
He could hear the sound of the shower going as he walked away. 


	6. Chapter 6

I fucked my boss.   
Holding his head sitting by his bed, that was all Wardlow could think of. He just couldn’t believe what had happened just a few hours ago. He was so screwed. 

Or… was he?

It was complicated.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Maxwell’s attitude at the end. He clearly had planned the whole thing out to make it easy for both men to pretend that it didn’t happen. Wardlow didn’t want people to know about his sex life, and he could understand if Max felt the same way, but… why lying to each other when nobody was around? What was the point of it?

The bodyguard didn’t know what worried him the most, losing his job or the extreme awkwardness of acting like he didn’t fuck his boss while being around him. He did have a fantastic poker face, but his body wasn’t as good as faking. He’d be lying if he told himself that sex with Max hadn’t been amazing. He’d be lying if he told himself that he wouldn’t do it again. He felt so angry at him for introducing this bizarre element into his life, this plethora of possibilities that confused and paralyzed him. He’d have to be very careful in the following days to sense Max’s feel about the situation and make a decision from there. 

Is this something I should… talk to him about? Is this something that I want?

The day right after their first time fucking, Wardlow was a bit of a mess. Maxwell, on the contrary, went about his business like usual. Neither of them brough it up. Behind the bodyguard’s calm façade, he was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable. He was somewhat disappointed at himself for not being able to acknowledge what happened between them, or even to make a choice. 

However, what kind of decision could he make in a situation like that? It was like staying in the house of your one-night stand for a whole day after sex, except the one-night stand is your boss and you live in the damn house. He smiled with irony in front of the mirror while Maxwell tried on some new designer shoes at a store. The millionaire seemed as perky as always, not even bothered by their shared proximity. 

This made Wardlow even more uncomfortable. 

Once they were back home, the bodyguard stood still for a moment before saying goodbye, but Max was already gone. Perhaps he wasn’t as chill as he looked after all, he thought. 

That night, he had dreams that he couldn’t remember.

The next day Wardlow was barely keeping himself together during their workout, and by the evening he was a wreck internally. He needed to settle the score, to talk about what happened, to… do something. It felt like a weird coincidence that, the moment he walked towards Max’s side of the mansion, he found the man himself sitting on a couch in the living room. He looked like he had been waiting for him.

“Oh, hey” said Max, his face remarkably eased, no dramatic expressions. Wardlow thought he looked a little anxious, though. The circles around his eyes were darker than usual. 

“Can I hang out in your room for a bit?”

The bodyguard blinked twice.

“Excuse me?”  
“Can I hang out in your room for a bit? I’m just kinda bored, to be honest”

Wardlow almost scoffed when he heard him say the word ‘honest’. But this could be good. Maybe he wanted to talk. They could have done it in the living room, though. But he wasn’t going to be picky about a discussion he needed to have either way. 

Or maybe a part of him decided to abandon logic. 

“Uh, yeah, sure” he said.  
“Cool. You can watch one of those documentaries you like or whatever”  
“Like… Planet Earth?”  
“I don’t know. I guess?”

Wardlow was walking stiff. He felt the tension growing in the air. Why the fuck had he agreed to do this in his room? He felt like the biggest idiot who ever existed. He was sitting in a chair by a wooden table, one of his red ties hanging from the back. As per to expect, Max sat on the bed, looking at him.  
Wardlow closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

“Listen…”  
“What did you say you were gonna watch?” Max reached for the remote and made himself comfortable in the bed.  
“Max…”

He looked at him with an expression the bodyguard couldn’t decipher.

“What?”

Wardlow took a breath.

“Is there… anything you’d like to… talk about?” he said.

MJF looked at him with a serious, cold glance.

“I don’t know, Wardlow… is there anything _you_ would like to talk about?”

As the bodyguard was starting to get angry, Max chuckled. The older man looked at him with a confused expression which made his boss give a louder laugh. But he wasn’t making fun of him. He was laughing like a kid at recess sharing some hilarious secret with his friends.   
He was… erasing the tension.

Wardlow smiled a little bit. If he had to be thankful for anything, he was thankful for that.

“Alright” he said to Maxwell “there’s a question I’d like to ask you”  
“I’m all ears” he replied with a light grin, both of his hands resting behind his head. There were lions on the screen. 

Wardlow sat on the bed, getting closer to Maxwell.   
“Are we… ok?”  
Max was amazed by how earnest Wardlow’s face looked in that moment. He couldn’t reply right away.   
“Are we gonna be ok?”  
“Yeah” he finally said, looking into his bodyguard’s dark eyes. “We good.” 

At the time he finished saying it, Maxwell placed his hand on Wardlow’s forearm. The older man felt stunned and thrilled at the same time.

“So… what would you like to do now?” his boss said faking an innocent smile. While Wardlow thought it was cute, he was perceptive enough that he could tell Max wasn’t doing a great job at selling this hard to get, laid-back approach anymore. You got too close, and now I see the thirst in your eyes.

“I think you might have an idea” the bodyguard ventured in a vaguely sultry voice that made Max feel weaker. 

Max wasn’t prepared for this. He raised an eyebrow at Wardlow.   
He wasn’t prepared for what happened next either.

Wardlow turned around in the bed and placed himself on top of Maxwell. In one motion, he took the white muscle shirt from the shorter man, who’s lower half was now trapped between Wardlow’s powerful legs. Max’s slightly shaky hands raised to unbutton his bodyguard’s dress shirt, revealing the tan body he had dreamed about, button by button. The dizzy look that Max held while caressing his pecs turned Wardlow on like crazy. 

After they were both shirtless, the taller man took a good glance at the young, milky, sculptured chest laying in front of him. he grabbed MJF’s wrists tightly and pinned him unto the bed. He could feel the millionaire’s dick getting hard close to his own member. He went up to face his boss, who’s eyes were shut, and gently kissed the birthmark on his neck. 

Max was biting his own lip. He was losing it. 

“I think I know what you want” Wardlow said in a low voice, very close to his ear.   
That was it. He couldn’t fight it any longer.   
Max tried to move to the side so he could turn around, but Wardlow had a good hold of his wrists.   
No way, the bodyguard though. I wanna see you.

Finally letting go of his wrists, he moved his hands across MJF’s body. He could barely contain himself when he reached his boss’s thick, creamy thighs. Wardlow firmly held the younger man’s legs.  
He saw that his eyes remained closed.   
  
“Look at me” said Wardlow in a stern, yet gentle way.

Maxwell opened his eyes, but avoided looking at his bodyguard’s face. The flustered, uncomfortable expression of horny embarrassment he displayed was enough to make Wardlow harder. After prepping him open, he put some spit on his dick and was ready to go.

As he thrusted into him harder and harder, Wardlow noticed that Maxwell was trying to be quiet, repressing himself again. This was unacceptable. In a moment of inspiration, Wardlow leaned slightly forward and firmly pulled MJF’s hair, pushing his head to the side. 

He moaned. 

Yes, thought the bodyguard. You can be as loud as you want.

Wardlow tried to keep eye contact. He loved to focus on Maxwell’s expressions. His eyebrows remained kind of arched, like pleading for mercy, while his eyes told a different story. Sometimes they were supplicating and rattled, which made the bodyguard feel faint. But most of the time they were angry. While his body flinched with pleasure, MJF looked at Wardlow like he hated his fucking guts, as if he were humiliating him. This look made the older man want to break him.

However, Wardlow was looking for more.  
He wanted to fuck him good. He wanted to fuck him stupid.   
He wanted to fuck that man until he saw no anguish in his eyes. No rage. No shame. Not even a trace of consciousness.   
Just stars. 

* * *

Later that night, Wardlow had that dream where he was the little boy in the grass. Once again from the perspective of the child, this time he was able to take a good look at the bunny resting couped in his small hands. For some reason, he had adopted a solemn sense of responsibility towards the animal. The precious little thing felt soft and warm, moving its tiny whiskers frantically. 

Suddenly, the boy felt a sharp pain in his hand. The creature, one moment ago placid and gentle, was now furiously biting his pinky finger, right in the spot between nail and skin. He shook his hand trying to persuade the animal to stop, but he wouldn’t give in.   
The boy was almost about to cry from the pain. 

The mouth of the bunny was covered by red. 


	7. Chapter 7

Sitting at the best table in an elegant restaurant, Maxwell was looking sharper than usual. His hair was so on point it seemed like he had just rolled out of a salon appointment. He was wearing a pale greyish-pink suit that gave him a sophisticated look. To finish it all, Wardlow was received at the table with a winner’s smile. 

“Hey, how’s it going? I hope you didn’t have anything else planned today, bud” Max said in a casual way.  
“It’s all good, no worries.” 

Bud. That epithet was really starting to get under Wardlow’s skin, although he didn’t know why. 

The bodyguard barely had any free time, but he wasn’t surprised on the slightest that Max has picked one of his days off to do this. That said, deep inside, he felt strangely… excited? It was hard to put a finger on it. Part of Wardlow’s brain was still somewhat worried he was going to get fired, but something about the way Max was behaving told him that it wasn’t the case. He had no clue what to expect, and thus he sat by the table with what he hoped was an entirely neutral body language.

“So, how’s your day been, huh?” Max started.  
“Just a regular day, I guess”  
“Talk to some friends, I suppose?”

Wardlow had spent most of his free time on the phone with his mom.

“Uh… yeah, something like that”  
“Mm-hm. I see. Waitress!!” Max yelled. “Bring us a nice bottle of champagne” he told the server, pointing at his preferred option on the menu. 

Wardlow raised his brow.

“Are we… celebrating… something?”

Max acted surprised, as if that was the stupidest question. 

“Of course we are, man! Good news!”  
“Oh yeah? What are they?”   
“Well…” Max replied. “You’ve been doing a great job. Soooo… I think it’s time for a raise!”

Wardlow was confused.   
Surely MJF was joking. He hadn’t been working for him for that long.   
Was this what he thought it was?

“Um… I don’t understand” he said.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I don’t know, it’s just…” 

Wardlow was conflicted. Why did he feel so disappointed?   
While he was thinking about a proper way to finish the sentence, the server brought the bottle of champagne. 

As the drink was poured it into both of their cups, Maxwell looked at him expectant and a little worried. He was starting to entertain the possibility that things weren’t gonna go as planned.

Once the server left, the bodyguard finally asked: 

“Is this normal… for you?” 

MJF moved his head to the side in a sardonic theatrical gesture. 

“Pardon?”  
“Is it… normal to offer a raise to your bodyguard after just a few months of work?”

Max touched the space between his eyebrows, slowly massaging his forehead, adopting a posture that said ‘you’re too much’. While Maxwell’s voice was quieter than usual, he took some gusto when he replied:

“Well, you are not _normal_. You’re the best one I’ve ever had.” 

And then it hit him. Wardlow understood.  
The way Max seemed to know specific details about his lifestyle. The sex-related question at the interview.   
He was getting paid to be a… fuckdaddy?!

Wardlow felt like his head was spinning.

He wasn’t really used to entertain so many emotions all at once. He was angry at himself for letting this situation get the better of him. He was disappointed at himself for expecting… something. He was confused, and didn’t know what he expected, or even wanted, to begin with. And he was… sad, for some reason.   
But most of all, he was furious at this petulant brat that had played him.

As soon as Max could see the clogs turning in his bodyguard’s head, his eyes became erratic. He started peering at different spots within the restaurant. He was concerned that a scene could ensue and started figuring out the least embarrassing way of keeping appearances. 

The older man’s hands were folded into fists. He had a lot of questions.   
The first one came out not because he picked it. He wished he hadn’t blurted it out by the moment he heard himself saying it. It was the question that, for some reason, made him the saddest.

“Did you have other bodyguards?”

He looked at his boss with what must have been an intense glance, because he saw that spark of fear (or anguish?) in Max’s eyes again. 

“What?”  
“Did you have other bodyguards before me?”  
“Ummm, yeah, of course” Max said a little flustered. He really hoped this wasn’t going the way he thought it was going.  
“How many”  
“Huh? I don’t know?” he wasn’t liking Wardlow’s tone one bit “You mean, like, in total, or…?”  
“How many bodyguards did you have before me” 

Yeah, MJF was not liking his tone at all. It was like Wardlow wasn’t even asking but demanding. He was especially worried about the way he had said “bodyguard” with disdain, as if the word was supposed to mean something else. Something bad.

“Well, not many. Why do you care?!” it was clear that Max was losing his cool too.

Wardlow still felt his head spinning. There had been a voice in his brain during his stay in the mansion that he put a lot of effort on ignoring. You’re getting paid to do nothing, the voice said once. You’re getting paid to be some rich asshole’s best friend, the voice said another time. Now Wardlow really didn’t want to hear it. You’re getting paid to be…

“How many”

Now Max was actually getting upset. Just what the fuck was Wardlow’s intention with all of this?

“Ugh! _dear lord_. Four or five, ok?! Five.”  
“Do you have any pictures of them?”  
“What?! You’re, like… wait, why the fuck are you asking me this?!” Max said in a quiet yet intense voice, punctuated by anxiety.  
“Do you have any pictures?”  
“Uh, excuse me?!” 

Max raised his voice a bit but didn’t notice. His main concern was to appease the conversation as soon as possible, because he knew that he was blushing like an idiot. His face felt hot. It was absolutely embarrassing. 

“No, I don’t have any pictures right now.”  
“Are they all big too? Do they fit my type, Max?”  
“Bud, listen…”

The face that Wardlow put after that sentence made Max scared again. Had he read his bodyguard all wrong? The younger man took a deep breath and made direct eye contact.

“Wardlow… the _fucking_ bodyguards… they were not like _you_.” 

Max was feeling exhausted already. This was going to be harder than he thought. He tried to calm down a bit.

“You are the only one” he said. 

Max then looked at his cup of champagne. Neither of the men had touched the liquor yet. 

The only one…  
Wardlow’s ears were ringing. It was too much to take in. 

“The only one that fell for your bullshit?” asked the bodyguard. His voice was a little shaky with anger.  
“No.” said Max in a quiet tone, looking down. “The only one I want for the job.”

Perhaps in a subtle, unconscious level, Wardlow knew what his boss really meant by this. If he was going to be ok with it, well, that was a different story. What angered him the most was that he wasn’t really sure why he felt so upset. Had he thought that he and Max could be… in a relationship? Did he want to, like… actually date this privileged, entitled idiot? 

He decided to not consider that question. 

“Wow” Wardlow finally said in a quiet, defeated tone. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special”

Maxwell’s reaction to his sentence, once again, angered him even more.

The younger man blinked repeatedly and folded his hands together on top of the table. He looked shocked and appalled, and his body language was that of a man making an effort to look relaxed. His expression said it all, though. He seemed to be offended and genuinely hurt by Wardlow’s comment.

Are you fucking kidding me? The bodyguard thought… yet again. 

“Well…” said Max in a cold, calculating tone “I don’t pay you to feel special.”

Wardlow stood up from his chair.

“Then what do you pay me for, Max? what do you exactly pay me for?”

Maxwell looked around to make sure nobody was noticing the scene. 

“We will have this conversation again later” he said under his breath, angrily, avoiding eye contact. 

Wardlow left his spot and started walking towards the entrance. He did it slowly and quietly enough that a total mess was avoided. At least you can do _that_ right, Max thought. 

The millionaire stayed on the table for a couple of extra minutes. He couldn’t believe that his own employee had the nerve to decline his offer, which had been very generous, mind you. What was up with this guy?! After all he’d done for Wardlow, he dared to leave him alone at the table. Some people are just rude. And dumb. And now his day was ruined. Great. 

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the server, who approached the table asking if he needed anything else.  
“What do you think?!” Max said, dropping some bills on the table.  
“…would you like to take the bottle to go, sir?”  
“ _Would you like to take the bottle to go, sir_?” Maxwell replied mockingly, mimicking the server’s submissive attitude. He didn’t answer the question, and instead left the place muttering things like “fucking stupid” and “this place is shit anyways.”

Why did his life had to be _so_ hard?!

* * *

  
The empty suitcase was opened on top of the bed. Standing in front of the closet, Wardlow looked at it for a considerable amount of time. As he slowly turned and walked towards his clothes, he noticed that the top button of one of his suits that were hanging from the rails was undone. He fixed it in a heartbeat, and got distracted by the softness of the beautiful black fabric. 

Maybe he needed to think about this.

He tried to see the situation from Maxwell’s perspective. He asked himself, is this “arrangement” something I can deal with? Something I can agree with while maintaining my integrity? Am I overreacting? Is my anger reasonable? 

That last question directed him to the core of the issue. What really infuriated him was having to behave like nothing had transpired between him and Max. However… he didn’t know why this angered him so much.   
This wasn’t really like his good old self.   
Wardlow was a loner. He wanted to focus on his career. He didn’t want to date either.

Then… why did it make him so angry that he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge the goddamn sexual tension? All things considered, he should be glad about the situation, less talk was less problems. But it was a matter of pride, too. He was an openminded person, but had been raised with a particularly strict moral code when it came to devaluating people’s worth. The fact that he was even beginning to consider staying at his job after his realization hurt his pride deep. 

He needed to take action. Now.

So he decided to wait until the next day to make a choice.


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning, Wardlow was surprised to find out MJF at the gym before him. It even looked like he had been working out for a while. He sent a furtive glance to his boss, which he didn’t reply. 

Max was acting like he didn’t even notice his bodyguard in the room, but he looked furious. Wardlow knew that working out like that was not ideal, but he wasn’t gonna make an effort now. If MJF wanted to get hurt, he could go and get hurt. I’m a bodyguard, not a personal trainer, he thought. 

However, his attitude changed when the two hours of silent heavy training were over, and Maxwell continued working.   
His body was red and sweaty, his facial expression one of discomfort. Wardlow decided to stay there a little longer.   
Just to see how far Max could get. 

The older man cleaned up the equipment and the machines that he used. He drank some water and lightly stretched. He washed up. He gathered his stuff. And Max was still there.

By that time, Wardlow was getting pissed. What was he trying to do?! This was just unhealthy. Unprofessional.   
He had to stop it.

“Hey…” he said to his unresponsive boss. “Max?” he tried again.   
“What do you want?!” he replied, stopping the workout for a second. 

Max looked exhausted, like he had just run a marathon. He looked at Wardlow with a mixture of fake boredom and bravado. 

“Well, I could ask you the same question. You’ve been working out for way too long, and it’s dangerous for…”  
“And how do you know that, huh? Is it because you’re bigger than me?! You think you’re better than me?!”  
“Uh…” 

Wardlow was confused again.

“I don’t need your help. Now, if you… excuse me…” he said in between panting “I shall continue”

Wardlow stopped the machine. He reached for the other man’s shoulder.

“Max, just don’t. It’s not good for you”

With a violent gesture, Maxwell pushed Wardlow’s hand aside.

“I told you. I don’t need your help.”

Frustrated, the millionaire tried to stand up from the machine. Because he was slightly faint after the physical struggle, he made a wrong movement with his right foot and almost fell to the ground. Wardlow saw a glimpse of fear on his eyes and quickly descended to grab Max’s body firmly so he wouldn’t fall.   
He caught him. 

He held him for a second.

“Don’t touch me” said Maxwell, looking at him dead serious.

Alright then, Wardlow thought. I guess now it’s really time to move on.  
He didn’t say a word after leaving Max gently on the floor.   
He didn’t even look back. 

Wardlow took a quick shower and then went to pick his clothes for the day. Since the possibility of leaving his job was on the table, he chose to grace one of the slickest suits that he owned. He was going to miss that shit. 

He had a lot to think about, but he felt that the decision was already made. He couldn’t keep up with this guy. He was just… too hard to handle. No wonder he needs a bodyguard. But Wardlow realized that MJF needed so much more than that. 

From what he knew about his boss, he could tell that Max had built incommensurable walls around himself. He had little to no contact with his relatives, and there were rumours about him somehow stealing his inheritance from his own parents. He had no friends. He didn’t date. For some reason, he had distanced himself from everyone in his life to focus on his career. In that respect, he was very much like Wardlow.   
And yet, there was a fundamental difference.  
Maxwell seemed to know exactly what he wanted.

What the fuck do I want? Wardlow asked himself.  
And then, like an electric current, an intrusive thought. His face tensed up with worry.

His boss didn’t understand the strain that he had put his own body through.   
And he was going to do something dangerous. 

Max is going to the pool. 


	9. Chapter 9

Wardlow wasn’t supposed to be there. He should have been applying for a different job. But there he was, rushing through the mansion towards the pool. He had seen it before, athletes overworking themselves and then heading out to the next activity like nothing. MJF’s special mixture of self-centered confidence and defiance was alarming in this regard. 

He got there fast enough that he saw his boss from a distance, getting ready to dive in. Max wasn’t even aware of his presence, and before Wardlow could say anything, he looked as MJF’s right foot slipped. He saw the surprise in his face, and then a sight that made his blood cold. 

Maxwell tripped, hit his head against the ground and fell into the pool, seemingly unconscious. 

It is a shame that there were no cameras around for that moment, because Wardlow looked like a superhero. He dropped his jacket in one quick motion and sprinted to the pool. Without thinking for a second, he dived in. MJF had passed out. He grabbed his arm under the water and pulled him towards him. Once he had a good hold, he lifted Max and held his unresponsive body in his arms as he took him out of the pool.

He slowly laid Max on the grass and checked for breathing. He placed his ear next to his face and was relieved when he heard sounds. He gently slipped his hand under his boss’s head to see if there was any blood and luckily he found none. He needed to keep MJF’s head and shoulders a little raised now. He improvised a pillow using his jacket which he found on the floor.

“Max!” he called while carefully patting his face. 

The young man came back from his stupor abruptly.

“Ugh… what the fuck just happened?” he asked in a shaky tone.   
“It’s all fine. Don’t worry. We’re gonna wait here for a few minutes and then I’m gonna get you inside”  
“Oh…” 

Maxwell’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Had he just… tripped...? in front of Wardlow?!   
The jolt of embarrassment seemed to bring a bit of colour back to his face. He tried to move his arm.

“No” said Wardlow, grabbing his arm and putting it back down. “You have to stay still for a few more minutes. OK?”  
“…Right” 

Max felt like an idiot. He closed his eyes.

The two men stayed in silence for a while, Wardlow constantly checking on MJF until he was sure it was safe to move him. He took off his now drenched dress shirt and threw it on the side. 

“How do you feel?”  
“Like I got fucking knocked-out” he said before coughing. “Other than that I’m fine I guess”  
“Alright. I’m going to take you inside, OK? Don’t move your head”  
“Yeah yeah, I’m a wrestler, I know how it works” he said faintly. 

Wardlow almost smiled. It was a good sign that he was being a jerk.

The bodyguard slowly lifted MJF, carrying him in his arms like in the film of the same name. Despite the pain on the back of his head, Max was enjoying the feeling of his face against Wardlow’s smooth chest more than he could ever admit. 

In order to avoid the stairs, he carried him to his own bedroom. Once he carefully placed the younger man in the bed, Wardlow covered him with a blanket and sat in the chair by his side. 

After resting for a moment, Maxwell talked.

“So, uh… what am I supposed to do now?”  
“Stay here. If you feel any nausea or a headache, I’m calling a doctor”  
“Oh, come on. I’m fine”  
“We’ll see”  
“OK”

Max did feel a bit lightheaded, to be honest. Why did Wardlow’s bed felt so damn good? His bed was supposed to be better than this one. He’d have to look into this later.

“Max?” said Wardlow out of nowhere, as he sat on the bed by him.  
“Hm?”  
“There is something that I need to know”  
“Alright. What is it?”

Wardlow looked very serious all of a sudden. He grabbed Maxwell’s limp hand between both of his.   
His hands were so big and warm and strong. 

It felt so amazing… 

“Did you do that on purpose?”

It took a bit for Max to come back to reality. At first he wasn’t sure what he was referring to. 

“You mean, like… fucking tripping?”  
“Um… yeah.”

Maxwell considered giving different answers, but they were all embarrassing. So he just went with the truth.

“…No.” he looked down. 

Wardlow had never seen his boss truly sad before. It felt awful. He never wanted to see that again. 

“Hey, hey. It’s OK. I was worried, that’s all” he said, placing one of his hands on MJF’s neck.

Max was shocked when he started feeling the older man’s warmth on his skin.   
How did he know? that had always been his comfort spot. 

MJF let himself drift away in the pleasant feeling.

“Alright” said Wardlow, softly removing his hand from his boss’s neck after who knows how long “I’m gonna leave you here for a while so you can take a nap” The bodyguard started getting up.  
“Well, actually…”  
“What?”

MJF was almost entirely covered by the blanket, with only his face sticking out. It reminded Wardlow of a little kid.

“Can you… stay?”

The bodyguard couldn’t believe what was happening. Max was giving him… puppy eyes?  
And not only that, but… it was working?!

“Sure”   
“You can get on the bed if you want”

He did.   
They laid side by side, either eyes closed or looking at the ceiling, sinking together in a complex kind of silence.

“How did you know I was gonna be there?” the younger man asked suddenly.   
“Well, you always go for a swim after training. It’s just something you do every day. Actually, I was lucky that you went later than usual today”

Wardlow said those words without thinking, but the fact that in his story _he_ was the lucky one didn’t escape Maxwell.   
He just… didn’t know what to make of it.

“But, like…” MJF inquired “how did you make it on time?”

He took some time to reply.

“It’s part of my job, I suppose”

The room fell so quiet that Wardlow could feel Max growing anxious beside him.

“We don’t have to talk about it” Wardlow said.  
“We don’t?” Max replied quickly.  
“No. It’s OK” 

For now, he thought.

After a while, Max talked again.

“You know… I really think you should stay here”  
“What… do you mean…?”   
“You should keep working here! I mean… what I’m trying to say, is that… you should stick around.”

For a moment, Wardlow considered the possibility that there could be cameras around his side of the mansion. Was Maxwell spying on him? How did he know that he had been about to quit? But then again, perhaps the young millionaire wasn’t so unaware of his difficult personality. 

“Listen, Max… I do like… working for you. But I don’t know if… we’re a fit…”  
“Wardlow…” he said seriously, “Stay. Just stay, alright?”  
“Give me one good reason” Wardlow replied in a stern tone.  
“Because… I don’t want you to go.”

There was a moment of silence.   
There was something different about the way Max said that.   
He sounded vulnerable. The sentence felt like a confession.   
Wardlow meditated on that for a second.

“…I’ll think about it.” 

But that was a lie.   
Wardlow felt like he couldn’t leave now, even if he wanted to.   
He didn’t want to look at Max. Somehow, he knew that he was smiling.

“You should take a nap”  
“Yup. Good call. See you in a while” he said, holding a sleepy, goofy smile on his face. 

After a few more minutes of shared silence, Wardlow could feel Maxwell finally falling asleep. 

What the fuck are we even doing? The bodyguard asked himself. Why was his heart racing like that? Even though they were on the same bed, there was nothing sexual about it. This was something entirely different. Then why was he so struck with both anxiety and bliss? 

And then, for some inexplainable reason, he had a revelation.   
He remembered all about the dream with the boy holding the bunny. 

It turned out, Wardlow realized, that the dream was not entirely created by his unconscious mind.   
It was a memory.   
When he was a child, he used to spend some weekends at his grandmother’s farm on the outskirts of the city, a place where he could roam around, playing and exploring until he became hungry or exhausted. 

One particularly windy day, he found a small rabbit alone in the grass. The creature looked paralyzed by the cold, and when Wardlow approached him his bright little eyes stayed frightened and focused on him. He sat down by the rabbit, and couped him in his hands, holding the animal closer to his sweater to cover it from the wind.   
When he tried to stand up, the rabbit got nervous and bit him. 

He remembered how sharp the pain felt, especially as a toddler. It was a new kind of pain.   
He remembered the red spot in his finger, and how hard he tried to make the animal stop, with no avail.   
But now he remembered something else.

He had felt good.

He didn’t know why, but, as a child, he felt that he had the duty to protect the rabbit. He bit the pain, stood up while holding the creature, and walked until he found a hollow three where he could get it warmer. As he searched for a good spot, the rabbit continued to dig deep into his skin with its little teeth.   
It didn’t matter.   
He felt strong. He felt powerful. And as he left the rabbit safely by the tree, he knew he was. 

Now, more than two decades later, the bodyguard turned around to look at the man he worked for. 

Maxwell looked so relaxed... 

Wardlow wanted to hold him, to spoon him, to touch his hair.   
But he decided not to.   
Instead, he turned to the side and went for a nap too.   
Maybe some other time, he thought.

For now, he was glad to hear him breathing by his side. 


End file.
